


Toothmarks

by TearoomSaloon



Series: Bite Down [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Branding, Canon Universe, Dark, Dark!Kylo, Dom/sub, F/M, I have written SMUT AGAIN, Kinda creepy Kylo, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Sex, Slow Build, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: His commands controlled her, led her, dictated her actions. She bore his mark and he was master of her body, though she fought his will with tooth and nail.





	Toothmarks

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a soulmate AU with a twist - the dominant of the relationship bears a mark on the palm, whereas the submissive (not by choice) is branded by their bare touch. 
> 
> The sex is consensual here so *finger guns*

It happened when she was caught unaware. Hot fire dragged down her left side, searing and scorching, burning her nerves to a crisp. She screamed, dropped to her knees, let her blade fall from her grasp. He froze in his path, ungloved hand no longer touching her flesh. He breathed in through his animal teeth and her doe eyes shut tight.

The crash of battle through the trees echoed like deathly wails and she was up on her shaking feet. She caught his gaze before racing to safety, questions unanswered in his honeyed stare. Her run was like galloping across broken bones, legs unsteady, vision blurred. It was a wonder she made it to the _Falcon_ without being riddled with blaster fire.

Locked in the ship's fresher, she tore her vest and shirt from her body, backed herself to the mirror, scrabbled to free her stinging shoulder from the cloth. Blood stained her skin, crusting the wound with freshly forming scabs. She swore, not recognizing the shape. It didn’t look like a saber mark, a cut, a stab—it was intricate. It was _growing_.

The General was the first to see her when they touched down at the base, warned ahead of time that her brother’s student was howling like a wounded beast the whole journey. She sat dizzy on a medical table waiting for the Emdees to patch her back together, to stop the bleeding. She couldn’t seem to stop reopening the charred lines of ripped flesh.

“I’m sorry,” the General said after giving it a thorough examination.

“What’s wrong with me?” She cursed the choked sound in her voice, the verge of tears threatening to overspill.

In response, Leia delicately pulled a glove from her hand, revealing a long strip of ink disappearing up her wrist, up her forearm. “Do you know what this is?”

Rey inhaled sharply, fear curling in her stomach. “No…I didn’t…”

“It looks like his,” Leia said softly, meeting her gaze. “It is his, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” she lied.

“I hope, for your sake, he’s begun to change.”

“Is there any way to reverse it?”

She shrugged. “You could kill him.”

The General left her alone to her thoughts, to the crippling realization making its way down into the marrow of her bones. She had only heard of these marks, had never seen one in person. Had never dreamed she would be in possession of one, would have her will taken from her, ripped out of her body.

A soul mark.

An unfair, cruel twist of fate.

He appeared in her fever dreams that night, his tar-black hair void of starlight. On his palm, he wore a thick silver mark, curling lines flowing in the same direction as the fresh brand on her shoulder. It still stung in her sleep, the throb making its way into her muscles.

“What irony,” he said softly, “that you belong to me.”

“I belong to myself.”

“No.” He lifted his arm and her body mirrored, out of her control. “You’ll find me when you wake.”

“I’m not well.”

“Come to me,” he ordered, fading into the shadows of a moonless night.

She woke with a violent start, shivering in her sheets. Her left arm was on fire, heat clambering up her skeleton and to her brain. There was no escaping the gnawing in her stomach, the itch to fulfill his command. She was injured, but she was capable, and her misbehaved limbs led her down to the hangers. Her fate had officially left her control.

How unfortunate that she was the branded in this relationship. She bore his mark, an unruly twisting thing that claimed her as his own. Soulmates were rare, but evidently not rare enough to keep her safe. Weren’t soulmates supposed to love each other? Preposterous. She’d rather poison herself than grow sympathetic to the monster calling her forward.

He waited for her on a relatively desolate-looking planet, forests overgrown, earth pliable and spongy. Untouched. With a scowl, he waited beside a hulking black craft, its design sleek and powerful with jaws like a feline. Shivers collected like rainwater down her back, nerves dancing frightfully fast. His yellow eyes cut like a molten blade and she could feel her breath like heat in her chest, scorching her lungs.

“What do you want from me?” Even the strength of her voice betrayed her.

“Nothing _from_ you. Aren’t you the least bit intrigued with it all?”

No, she wasn’t.

He flicked his wrist and she was made to follow, body a mere vessel under his command. For, see, she was branded, her body marked by his. He could control her and she could do nothing but relinquish herself to his wish. He owned her. 

* * *

 "You need to eat.”

She had been starving herself on and off for a month now, attempting to get him to just let her go, or let her wither. He had forced food down her throat more than once and each time she felt sick, disgusted. Even after being in his presence for so long, nothing had clicked. She hadn’t magically fallen in love with him—in fact, she might argue she hated him more than ever. He didn’t seem to care for her much either, yet he kept attempting to break her spirit.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your ribs are clearly visible. Eat something.”

She ripped a chunk of bread off and hurled the rest of it at him. It struck his forehead and earned her bruises on her forearms, his fingers digging harshly into her flesh. She sneered, holding her ground against his fearsome yellow eyes. They were looking more crimson with every passing week. The General’s boy wasn’t ever coming back.

“Can you do anything without making it into a fight?” he hissed, flinging her back down onto the sofa.

“Can you just let me go? I don’t want to be here.”

He didn’t answer, only glared, and stalked from the room. She couldn’t figure it out, his obsession with keeping a caged bird. She didn’t sing, she had nothing more to give him in terms of Intel, and she was useless company. Her connection to the Force was stifled by a puppet master pulling her strings.

Isolated and afraid, Rey let a tear spill down her cheek, burying her face in the couch cushions.

She dreamed of dreary gray skies and endless downpours. Sometimes he pried into her dreams, other times she was alone. After the second month, he became a more frequent visitor, his temperament calmer, less agitated. Usually he just sat beside her, silent, busy in his mind. When he spoke, it confused her, tormented her shifting perceptions.

“What _do_ you want with me?” she asked one dream, seated in the dark on a sandy beach. She missed the oceans, missed the water on Ahch-To.

“What do you think I want?”

“A torture subject.” She tossed a flat stone out to sea. “Or a lab rat.”

“I want you to listen to me,” he said without meeting her eyes. “I want to touch you as though we’re familiar.”

“Have you ever considered being nice?”

“You asked what I wanted, not what I’m attempting to do.”

His words made cold stones of fear sink down into her stomach. “You’re trying to break me, aren’t you?”

“Listen to me or we’ll have to do it the hard way. You’re a target if you can’t follow me.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Options.”

* * *

 Little by little, she began to behave, no longer battling against his control. He softened, letting her have her way on occasion, letting her refuse. After three weeks of her good behavior, he took her with him to a planet in the mid-rim, somewhere green and wet. A thunderstorm raged and she stood in the pelting rain, feeling alive for the first time in months. She was still captive, but she was becoming her own once more.

“Come here,” he instructed when she returned inside, pulling her with a flick of his wrist. Her feet obeyed and he wrapped a towel around her shivering shoulders. “You’re going to get sick if you don’t warm up.”

Her branding tingled when his hand brushed across it. She turned her head to see his marked palm, noticing the swirling silvery white had grown, stretching down his forearm, extending to his fingers. “Yours has spread.”

“They do that.”

“Why?”

He patted her soaking hair down with a smaller piece of terrycloth. “The more you give yourself to someone, the more it grows. Don’t worry, yours is still small.”

She fell asleep on the sofa when he was getting ready to leave on his reconnaissance mission. He had ordered her not to flee—she couldn’t have left if she wanted to. She stirred before he left, his footsteps not terribly quiet on the tile of the floor. They grew closer and she feigned sleep, unsure of what he was doing, what he could have possibly forgotten on the table beside her.

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, laying a soft kiss to her brow, lingering a moment too long. She counted the seconds after he left, sitting up in the heavy, lonely air. Her cheeks felt hot. Determined, she made her way to the fresher and inspected the brand over her left shoulder blade. It was still small—considerably smaller than the monstrous silver serpent snaking along his skin. She had given almost none of herself to him, yet he had exposed himself fully.

Was she the callous one? Had their dynamic flipped and she’d become the monster, uncaring and cold?

No, he was the monster.

Coming back covered in sticky slick red blood, he was the animal. His fulvous eyes sparked full of heat and he growled. “We’re leaving, _now_.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, racing after him through the dense jungle’s undergrowth. That was the end of their off-ship trips for a while. It seemed his master didn’t appreciate him coming home bloody and feral, though she had a suspicion Kylo was outgrowing Snoke, the inky nature of his anger becoming progressively more difficult to control.

Even through his madness, day after day, she watched his soulmark grow, spreading up to his shoulder, silver vines curling around his bicep. She noticed no change in her own, no matter how intricate his became.

They sat side by side an evening into the fourth month; he flipped through the HoloNet while she pretended to read. He groaned, complaining that nothing good was ever on, no matter how many planetary broadcasts they picked up.

“Is there anything you want to watch?”

She glanced over to him. He wore loose pajama bottoms and a shirt without sleeves, the armholes large enough to see the pale skin over his ribs. His mark’s tendrils had grown down his abdomen, took root in his collarbone. She swallowed, nervous, keenly aware she could see a physical representation of his affection for her. “I’ve never really had the chance to.”

He shrugged and left it on some holodrama with a sappy plot. She attempted focused on the flimsiplast in her hands, ears occasionally picking up dialogue. Exhaustion had been creeping into her peripherals for several hours now, sore after a sparing session. Eyelids heavy, she went out like a burnt bulb.

She woke a half hour later, groggy, her ear aching from being pressed against his chest.

Rey shot up.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” His hand was on her waist, his voice soft and low. “It’s late, if you wanted to retire.”

Biting her lip, she laid back against him. “I’m awake now.”

He leaned into her, pulled her an inch closer.

She examined her brand in the mirror a few days later, remarking that it had begun to spread down her back and across her shoulder. The pinkish-white skin was warm to the touch, stung a little when her fingertips brushed across the welts. She would fall just as he had, descending deeply down until there was no reason to surface from the depths once more.

His arm slunk around her when she entered the kitchen, a kiss light on her neck. Almost half a year after her capture and they were beginning to see on level planes.

“Good morning.” His golden eyes were intensified by the lavender splotch blooming on his cheek.

She reached up, brushing his dark curls from his face. “What happened?”

“I was disrespected.”

There was dried blood on his earlobe. “Is this yours?”

“No; only took one punch.”

Rey shrank back, uneasy.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, wandering to the far end of the kitchen. “You’re not in danger.”

There was always reason to fear. He might not have understood, but it scared her to see him return from his missions and departures sprayed red and bruised. It took days for his irises to return to gold from their sanguine stain. He toed the line of a beast too often for her comfort.

* * *

The next time he took an off-ship mission, he returned feral. A part of his humanity had gotten lost on the return trip and an animal stood in its place. He called her to him as he stalked through his quarters, head frenzied, eyes wild.

His kiss was bloody and sudden, too imperfect for the first. He pulled her savagely against his body, all but devouring her. She pulled away, heart beating ferociously against her ribs, screaming to run. Howling to haul ass and flee from this dangerous situation.

“ _Stay_ ,” he commanded, teeth sharp behind ruddy lips.

“Kylo, you’re frightening me.”

“You’re safe.” He wasn’t very convincing. “Be calm.”

She pushed his hair from his forehead. “You’re bleeding, love.”

“It can wait.”

“No, please, let me help.”

Anything to stall, anything to get his lecherous gaze away from her body. She took his hand and led him to the fresher, seating him on the toilet lid. Rifling through the medicine cabinet, she pulled out bacta and strips of gauze, hopefully enough to stop the bleeding. Head wounds were complicated; the skin was thin, it was hard to close larger gashes without stitches. Smearing the clearish, gelatinous ooze onto his cut, she sighed. “Anywhere else you’re leaking from?”

“My shoulder.”

“Can you raise your arms to get the tunic off, or do I have to cut it?”

He managed to shrug out of his upper layers, wincing with the movement of his right arm. The laceration was wide but superficial.

“Why didn’t you go to the medbay?” she asked as she wrapped his arm in gauze.

“I didn’t think of it.” He was coming down from his feverish delirium, the color returning to his cheeks. “I wasn’t thinking of much at all.”

She kissed his forehead, rising to replace the supplies. “Take it easy tonight.”

Rey sat him on the couch and badgered until he kept an ice pack on his face. He looked dreadful, his usually icy-gold eyes rimmed red and lackluster, dark circles spilling down his cheeks. She brought him something warm to drink when he complained of the cold, insistent on laying his head in her lap. At some point, she glanced over her left side to the chrono, catching sight of her branding. It covered the majority of her shoulder now, slinking up her clavicle and to her neck.

“You’re falling,” he said into the material of her pants. “I’ve noticed it spreading.”

“Rest.” She ran her fingers through his dark locks, attempting to soothe. “Get some sleep.”

He sat up and kissed her, gently this time. “I’m not tired.”

His right palm brushed her shoulder and she shivered, her branding tingling pleasantly. She leaned into him, to rest her forehead against his. Gentle fingers trickled down the side of her face, cupping her jaw, pulling her in. He tasted sweeter than earlier, his kiss more meaningful. When she shifted to find a better angle, he stood, urging her to her feet.

“Come.”

She was locked in by his commands still and fell into step behind him as he led to his bedroom. This room was one of few she’d not seen in his quarters and she had a feeling that soon—very soon—she would become intimately acquainted with his sheets.

He cocked his head, grinning. “Good girl. Lie back.”

“Will you not let me be autonomous for this?”

“I want to try something, dove.” His kiss was enough to shut her up. “Let me lead you.”

Helpless to move, she stayed put as he straddled her, fingers working to remove her shirt. “Arms up, don’t move them unless I say to.” He kissed from her neck down, sending short shivers up her skin. Pants next, she was soon bare before him. His clothing went too and he rose on his knees, towering over her, dwarfing her. “Relax. Speak up if something doesn’t feel good.”

“What are you doing?”

He stopped spreading her legs, hands resting on her hipbones. His thumbs were a little rough on her skin, rubbing small circles to soothe. “Are you…you’re not a virgin, are you, Rey?”

She didn’t answer.

“If I need to stop, tell me to stop.”

“Keep going.”

His breath was hot on the inside of her thigh, teeth grazing her skin as he kissed down, lips soft. Gingerly, he urged her legs farther apart, dipped his head between. She bucked immediately, not expecting to feel his tongue against her. Not expecting the shock of pleasure tingling on her lips.

“Are you all right?” His mouth was pressed against her folds, teasing her further.

She nodded, squirming when he drew his lips up, eyes not breaking from hers.

“Good.”

His hands held her in place, stopped her from shaking so. She could barely stand the sensation, unsure if it were annoying or pleasurable. She felt on an edge, a cliff, up against some barrier she was so close to overcoming. A scream flew from her throat when he slipped a finger inside of her, pressing upward as his mouth engulfed her senses. Her head was spinning in excitement and pain, though the scratching sensation was beginning to subside, drifting away as she finally reached the plateau. Her senses left her body, muscles quaking, hearing fading to white noise.

Her breath was heavy when she tried to sit up, forced down by the weight of his command. “Kylo…”

He sucked a red splotch on her inner thigh, biting too hard. “On your knees.”

She rolled over, unsure of what he wanted. Her bones knew, ducking her head down as he pulled her hips up, his grip anything but gentle. The tip of his cock pressed against her entrance and she fidgeted, trying in vain to get closer. He chuckled, smoothing wet fingers over her clit.

“Do you need me that badly?”

“Please…”

She howled when he thrust inside, fire shooting up her nerves.

“Should I stop?”

“Go slowly.”

Agonizingly slowly. Enough that she whined, wanting something more substantial than a stretching sensation. When he complied, it left her unable to breathe, pain and pleasure coalescing into something new, something better. She was so close again when he pulled out and she vocalized her distress.

“Get on your back and spread your legs.”

She watched him reposition himself, her eyes partially glazed over.

He took her wrists in his hands when he reentered, a small moan escaping his throat. “Come again, harder this time.”

Good Force, her body actually obeyed.

“ _Fuck_.” He kissed her hard and bit her neck, his body flush against hers. “Do I make you feel _incredible?_ ”

She nodded, hazy, still unable to run her hands through his sweaty mane.

“How good?”

“I can’t think right now.”

His climax came hard and fast, leaving him atop her like deadweight. His fingers traced her mark, sending sparks across her shivering skin. When his breathing slowed, he lifted his head, lips dragging across her cheekbone. “How are you feeling?”

“Can I please have use of my arms back?”

“Oh. Sorry.” He cancelled out the command before falling back into the pillows. A hum drew from his chest when she drew constellations down his back.

“I feel good,” she said softly into his messy hair. “Better than I thought I would. Doesn’t your shoulder hurt?”

“Yup. Worth it.” He nuzzled into her neck and gave a contented sigh. “Stay with me tonight.”

“You’re on top of me—I don’t have much of a choice.”

She’d never felt as secure as she did wrapped in his arms to sleep. Monstrous boy, his claws weren’t for her. He muttered things into her hair, soft nothings lulling her to dreams.

In the morning, she gave herself a long look in the fresher mirror. Her neck was covered in red and violet marks, her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was practically standing up by itself, knotted and teased in several directions. Her soulmark stretched to her breast now, raised lines curling across her chest, down her side. They gave her a small happiness in her ribcage.

He caught her staring at her reflection and grinned. “Admiring my work?”

“Look at how much it’s grown.”

He stood behind her, his pale neck also bearing scarlet hickies, the silver lines of his soulmark slithering down his right leg. Kylo kissed her crown, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “We’re a fine pair, us two.”

She leaned back against his chest and smiled when his arms wove around her, held her close. “A perfect match.”


End file.
